


he’s so fit (i’m insecure)

by softtofustew



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jaehyungparkian, M/M, Semi-Broke!Jae, Yoga Teacher!Brian, and also to check out brian, jae just wants cheap lobster, me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softtofustew/pseuds/softtofustew
Summary: the image of brian with his sweaty, mussed up hair pulled back into a low ponytail and his defined abdomen on display is a little too overboard for jae to handle, so instead he nods furtively, sets the pen down and slides the form across the counter. silently, he pops his wallet open, carefully slips out eighty bucks before placing them on the form.oh, the things he does for hot guys and cheap lobster.all semi-broke jae yearns for are cheap lobster and someone to listen to his financial worries.





	he’s so fit (i’m insecure)

**Author's Note:**

> title: end up here by 5SOS (a banger honestly) //
> 
> inspired by the yoga mat i passed by in a shopping mall. s/o to errie for listening to me rant about these ideas and for the ideas huhuhu <33 hope you enjoy this!

fine,  _ perhaps _ jae exaggerates just a little more than he should each time he flails his arms out on either side of him and wails about how broke he is, how every time he pops his wallet open his heart shatters a little more, how every time he hands a five-dollar bill to the cashier his mind begins racing on and on concerning his leftover savings. perhaps jae exaggerates, and perhaps his friends are a little less understanding than jae hopes they could be.

as he leans back in his seat, wonpil folds his arms across his chest. the corners of his mouths turn slightly downwards as jae finishes berating on about his  _ brokeness _ . (jae thinks poverty is a bit of a stretch, considering he lives in a two-room apartment and has a good heating fix in this damned season, but still.) 

“you say that,” wonpil enunces slowly.

jae nods his head furiously, as he picks up his glass of iced cappucino (in winter, because that’s park jaehyung). “of course i do. have you not been listening to me this whole damn time?” jae huffs, irritated. he sips loudly from his straw before setting the glass down with a rather loud thunk.

his friend shakes his head. “then why are you here sipping on an eight-dollar lemonade?” wonpil asks pointedly, before gesturing at the tall glass on the pine round table between them. the height of the glass conquers wonpil’s measly short glass of iced water. “clearly there’s some irony in your words here,” he adds. as if to further exaggerate his point, wonpil delicately lifts his glass of iced water to his lips, sipping from it loudly, annoyingly enough to attract the attention of a couple of teen girls sitting nearby.

embarrassed, jae crosses his own arms over his chest, too, puffing it out for somewhat extra measure. “well, i beg your pardon, but  _ this _ coffee cost me my coupons, which i have gladly saved up since april. they had some free coupons sent to my mail,” he announces a little too excitedly, plastering a smirk across his face.

“of course you did.” wonpil downs the last droplets of water in his glass. 

“what’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” jae prods.

wonpil sighs, before scraping his chair behind. the legs squeak noisily against the floor. he throws his coat over his shoulders. “it means that you’re a cheapskate, and an absolute worry wart for dragging my arse all the way here to discuss your financial statements. and now you owe me a car ride to my yoga class,” he states matter-of-factly. 

jae, too, pours the rest of his cappucino down his throat hastily. hurriedly, he scrambles to his feet, tugging on his coat. “seriously? my financial state is at a crisis now! clearly, you’re supposed to be the caring friend who could at least spare an ear or two listening to me rant. what am i supposed to do? hire someone to listen to my worries?”

sighing deeply, wonpil pads over to the front doorway, with jae in tow. “you could, i don’t know, find a relationship wherein your filthy rich significant other will listen to all your poor endeavours in money and certainly does not have the word ‘broke’ in their dictionaries.”

“see, wonpil,” jae begins as he fumbles for the car keys in his washed-out jeans. he retrieves them and punches the button to unlock his car.  _ beep beep. _ the junk of his car, the beauty hailed from his lovely father as his eighteenth birthday. (he is, currently, fresh and peaking at his age of twenty-four. six years and counting, baby.) “thing is, where am i supposed to get a filthy rich husband who isn’t, like, graying and in charge of a huge ass company?”

his friend shrugs as he pops the passenger door open. “i don’t know. didn’t you say you dig older men?”

“and when i said that, i meant guys who aren’t twice my age, pil,” jae scoffs in mock offense as he slips into the driver’s seat. he twists the key in the ignition and levine (yes, levine) is a go-getter, spitting and sputtering as they take off. 

“see! you’re just being picky.”

jae snorts, his left eye twitching madly. “pil, hear me out. i have standards, okay? my taste is in, like, guys my age. hot guys. straight-fire hot guys with man buns and a kink for ‘80s music and sacrilegious earrings.” he makes a sharp turn, the route to wonpil’s (oh-so-beloved) yoga class as clear as the back of his hand. “guys who are boxer-dropping-”

“-can we not go there?” wonpil whines.

“well, i’m sorry you don’t like dudes. you’re kinda missing out on this piece of fine ass here,” jae chuckles, and the other has to hide his face in his hands, clearly in agony.

a couple more songs from the smiths and a few more jokes later, jae pulls to a halt outside the building, where wonpil’s yoga class is held on the second floor. jae observes the peeling paint for a moment, before turning the engine off. “here’s your stop, madame.”

“thanks, jaejae,” wonpil grins. he exits the passenger seat, closing the door with a loud slam behind him, before opening the backseat door to retrieve his pale pink yoga mat. 

“do i get a tip?” jae jokes, to which wonpil rolls his eyes and shuts the car door behind him, before striding off into the building. jae’s eyes follow his friend, and as the glass door swings shut behind wonpil, there’s a colourful poster taped to the door. curious, jae scrambles out of his car, locks it before doing a slow jog in the light snow over to the doorway. what catches his sight are the swirling bold letters stylised across the top of the paper, and the image of a cartoon lobster snapping its pincers at jae.

_ new opening of  _ the lobster king _ next door! _

mildly surprised, jae shuffles backwards, only to finally drink in the sight of the restaurant next door. if he remembers correctly, it was previously a swimsuit shop, which had closed a couple months back due to its horrific lack of customers. this store has a slate with the same fonted letters across it, spelling out ‘the lobster king’.

as if a switch is flicked on in jae’s mind, his mouth starts watering. he has to double-check if he’s drooling in public before he returns his attention to the poster, the details underneath the huge title printed in tiny letters, so tiny jae has to squint.

_ in collaboration with yogayo, sign up for a weekly session of any yoga class to get christmas coupons to our brand new restaurant! coupons range from 50% off your meals to 75% off our king lobster! _

holy shit. actual, holy, mother of all shits. jae almost crashes right through the glass door, striding up confidently to the shining marble counter to sign himself right away. as he nears the counter, he begins to remember that: one. he hasn’t done any form of exercise other than basic walking since the start of university. two. he has a body as stiff as a steel rod.

but all those thoughts fly straight out of his head as the guy, facing his back to him, swivels around. to say jae is stunned is pretty much an understatement, because  _ what the heck in all holy mother grails _ . the guy before him is, not-so-objectively-speaking,  _ the _ hottest guy jae has ever laid his eyes on since never. the stranger fixes his ponytail (ponytail!) before flashing jae a grin. a stray strand of hair falls past his eyebrows, and jae has to resist himself from melting on the spot right then and there.

“hey. welcome to  _ yogayo _ . how can i help you?” he asks, still grinning, and jae’s still rooted to the spot, absolutely frozen as his eyes skim every detail laid before him. the guy’s hair a shade of silver, his eyes curved upwards, his jaw strong and set. when the guy realises jae’s still staring, he laughs awkwardly. “sorry, uh, excuse me sir? how can i help you?”

jae blinks. “i...” what are you here to do again? oh, right. coupons. “hey. um. my name’s jae.”

hot guy nods his head courteously. “alright. hi, jae. i’m brian.”

_ brian _ . “hi, brian.” his lips are so dry, his throat is so parched. he’s a twenty-four-year-old man with a hottie signal skyrocketing past one hundred at the moment. “um. i saw the poster outside. i was thinking of signing up?” 

“ah,” brian chuckles, and it’s the smoothest fucking thing jae has ever heard that he has to grip the counter. “yeah. we’re currently getting a lot of new customers, thanks to them. not sure if people get attracted to the feng shui of our yoga classes, or the steaming lobster next door.” jae being jae, he nods along to brian’s words, and also subtly makes a mental note to google what the heck  _ feng shui _ is the second he exits this building.

“sooooo,” jae drawls. he begins tapping his fingers against the counter impatiently. “what classes do you have available? what would you recommend?” he quizzes curiously.

the other hums a little. “mm… let me check.” he reaches into an already open drawer to produce a tattered book, scrawls of ink all over it. “our beginners classes are all booked, but we’ve still got the newcomers classes for males and intermediate and advanced sessions.”

“which do you teach?” jae blurts out faster than he should, because it comes out all in a rush. he swears he catches something glistening in those fox eyes, but brian laughs heartedly. (be still, my heart.)

“i lead the intermediate sessions for males on wednesdays and saturdays. have you ever done yoga before?” brian asks, and it’s at this point that jae realises that he’s got to come up with something snappy, because no way, jose, is he landing himself in newcomers class when a whole hot dude with a fucking ponytail and hoop earrings exists right before his very eyes.

“um… i do some yoga with my friend wonpil sometimes. i’m pretty sure he’s in the intermediate class, right?” jae counters. well, it’s sort of a half-truth (not really) - wonpil offers to teach jae yoga whenever he’s over at his house, but jae kind of just rejects it most of the time and resumes scrolling through his twitter feed.

scanning down the page, brian lands on a name. “ah, yeah. kim wonpil. pretty sure i saw him a couple of minutes ago,” he comments lightly.

“yeah. so. i’d totally love to sign up for the intermediate sessions.” jae tries not to let his tone waver, but something about brian’s widening grin makes his knees buckle just a little more. when brian slides a form across the counter, jae has to will himself not to scream aloud. $80 per month? jae blinks rapidly for a second before quietly reaching for the pen.

thankfully, brian doesn’t notice jae’s sudden change in mood, instead rambling on about the details and whatnot. “we usually do some basic stuff, like big toe poses and plank poses, but some require a little balance, some abs. if you don’t have abs, this is the perfect class, honestly,” he jokes. “pretty sure i got mine after mastering the boat pose a couple years back.”

the image of brian with his sweaty, mussed up hair pulled back into a low ponytail and his defined abdomen on display is a little too overboard for jae to handle, so instead he nods furtively, sets the pen down and slides the form across the counter. silently, he pops his wallet open, carefully slips out eighty bucks before placing them on the form.

oh, the things he does for hot guys and cheap lobster.

**_______________**

wonpil tries not to burst into laughter the next time he wrenches the passenger door open on a saturday afternoon. “what the fuck?” he all but giggles as he scans jae in the driver’s seat. when his eyes land on the blue, rolled-up yoga mat in the backseat, wonpil’s eyes widen a fraction, the size of saucers. “what the fuck, park jaehyung? since when did you sign up for-”

“-since lobster became cheap and yoga teachers became hot as fuck,” jae cuts in smoothly, as he re-adjusts the bandana pushing his hair up. under his winter coat, he’s dressed in a loose tee and basketball shorts - he’s surveyed the internet and he’s pinned himself as not the type to wear neon-coloured yoga pants to his first ever session with aforementioned hot yoga teacher - and duck-patterned socks. wonpil doesn’t stop chuckling even as he throws his yoga mat into the backseat and clambers into the passenger seat.

“i didn’t know you found  _ grayson _ hot,” wonpil jabs his friend’s rib. “he teaches the newcomers well, but he doesn’t exactly scream attractive. no offence to him.”

not whoever-that-is,” jae snorts. “i’m talking mr silver ponytail.”

for a second, there’s silence, save for the humming of levine’s engine, until it finally dawns upon wonpil as to who the hell jae is implying, and he inhales sharply. “brian? brian kang?  _ my _ yoga teacher? the intermediate yoga class teacher?!” he blurts out. he turns to face jae, whose eyes are still on the road, but his bobbing adam’s apple gives it away. “dude! you’ve never done a second of yoga in your entire life!”

jae clears his throat awkwardly. “that’s why i did some research over the past few days,” he mutters, much more quietly than expected.

stunned, wonpil fumbles for the right words. “b-but. dude. this isn’t your high school research assignment. also, the closest thing you’ve done to stretching is reaching down to pick up a fallen pen or something,” he points out. jae scoffs, waving a hand dismissively in the air with the aura of whatever. “jae, i’m serious! you’re going to die in there.”

“please, wonpil. have you seen these long limbs? i could fold myself into two if you asked,” jae beams proudly, though it’s a half-lie. then again, it’s a half-truth, too; he practically halves himself whenever he slides into wonpil’s mum’s car his friend borrows sometimes.

“still,” wonpil sighs, but keeps his mouth shut afterwards. when they pull up at the yoga building, jae parks his car with ease and switches off the engine. the pair of them make a grab for their duffel bags and yoga mats, and within a few minutes they’re both emerging into the front lobby.

this time, a lady with bright eyes and a headband spelling  _ (feng) shui ziao _ , followed by some chinese characters jae can’t make out, the words sewn in dazzling sequins. “welcome! hi wonpillie,” she grins, and it’s only a matter of time before pink splotches her cheeks. but of  _ course _ his oh-so-straight-and-good-looking friend should enchant everyone present in the room; it’s practically in the job description of ‘being kim wonpil’. “and, hey, newcomer?” she extends her hand out towards jae, who shakes it awkwardly. “what’s your name?”    


“jae,” he replies. he has no intention in socialising with anyone at the moment. his mission for the day: check out hot yoga teacher while attempting some serious yoga poses and await for his prize of lobster coupons.

“ah, hello,” she smiles. “i’m nayeon. nice to meet you! which class are you attending?” 

“intermediate,” he answers, just as wonpil makes some form of a choked sound. the both of them turn their attention to him, who continues to cough into his fist. the motherfucker’s feigning his coughs to smother those stupid giggles.

wonpil shakes his head. “frog in my throat.”

the both of them soon wave goodbye to nayeon, whose eyes linger on wonpil a little longer. before he knows it, they’re taking the stairs up to the second floor. when they reach the landing, wonpil brings jae down a long hallway with mahogany wood doors flanked down the corridors on either side. as they pass by, jae sneaks a peek through the small windows on the doors, watching people of almost all ages following along with their instructors at the front of the rooms. his heart swells at the longing of seeing brian, of following along with brian’s teaching.

and then wonpil stops in his tracks in front of room B19. he knocks against the door, once, twice, before twisting the knob open. the doorway reveals wooden floors and a mirror skirting the entire length of one wall. the aroma of… freshly baked cookies waft in the air. confused, jae steps inside, only to spy a plate of cookies on the desk in the corner of the room. seated on the chair next to it is none other than brian, who has his earphones in and is bobbing his head to some tune spilling into his ears. 

jae thought brian couldn’t get any hotter, but then the guy has on a sleeveless tee and yoga pants. actual, dark grey yoga pants, that stop just under his knee. he has one arm in front of him, holding his phone, the other stretched back to tuck under his head. jae really shouldn’t let his eyes wander further, but they land on the flexed bicep in his arm, on the legs spread out in a position which should be deemed awkward (but is actually really hecking hot), on his thighs…

“hey, brian,” wonpil chirps all-too-cheerfully. startled a little, brian rips his earphones out and glimpses up to see the both of them. the corners of his lips turn upwards into a grin. brian sets his phone down onto the desk, stands. strides over to them. jae really, really, really tries not to stare at his thighs as he walks.

“hey wonpil. oh, hey jae!” brian slaps jae’s back in what should be some bro thing, so jae nods his head, playing along, when really all he can gaze at is brian’s hair pulled into a messy man bun. a fucking man bun. “great to see you, man. you’re gonna be a great addition to my class.”

jae’s not really sure what the other is hinting at, but he forces out a chortle. “yeah, uh. thanks. great to see you, too.” he begins to feel his scalp already forming beads of perspiration. nervously, he adjusts his headband. naturally, brian’s eyes follow his hand, and his grin widens.

“cute headband,” brian laughs, reaching out to adjust the hem of it where it’s twisted. holy grail. jae knows he’s probably sweating in his pits right now, but he’s so… fuck. he’s so fucked.

the moment doesn’t last forever though, because wonpil dashes up to the cookies. “brian! did you bake those?” he gasps as he stares at them in awe.

“i wish i did,” brian replies, swivelling around, and then the loss of contact makes jae shrivel a little. “help yourself. dowoon baked some and dished them out to all the instructors. even though i could eat them all, i decided to be nice today,” he adds. when he turns back around, he catches jae’s confusion. “ah. dowoon’s the instructor for the beginners class,” he informs him, and before jae can say anything, the other walks up to the plate and snags a cookie.

all jae can do is unfurl his mat, his eyes always on brian, on the way he shoves the cookie into his mouth and munches loudly, the way his entire jaw practically moves. he really shouldn’t be staring at him, but then he remembers that he’s practically half the reason jae’s here, ready for the edge of his death. and so he stares.

when the room begins filling up with more and more guys, jae tears his gaze away from brian. there are a couple of other dudes around his age, but the rest look like middle-aged dads. wonpil begins talking animatedly to one of the former category, jinyoung, leaving jae sat on his yoga mat looking pretty awkward.

it’s only when brian claps his hands that gets everyone’s attention on him. jae’s eyes snap to attention, watching brian as he grins at everyone in the room. “hey, everyone. hope you folks have had a good day so far. we’ve got a new addition to our class, jae.” he gestures to jae, who’d been (attempting at) hiding near the back of the class, and all eyes are on him for a moment. the attention doesn’t last long, to jae’s luck, for brian clears his throat and adds, “we’re gonna do some stretching before we begin, yeah?”

_ stretching?  _ all of a sudden jae’s breaking into cold sweat, his palms clammy as brian swipes through his phone for a moment. an instrumental pop synth tune begins playing from the speaker near the desk in the corner, and brian sets his phone down. “we’re going to work with our heads a little, just turn them, crack the bones in your neck.”

jae kind of just copies what wonpil’s doing. he suspects this is some freestyle stretching, and as the minutes tick by, he’s slightly relaxed since the stretching’s no more different from his high school physical education lessons. the calm only lasts until brian claps his hands. “okay, i think we’re ready to go! we’re going to start easy, as usual, to get your muscles flowing. downward dog, everyone!”

downward dog? the fuck was that? a dog… posing downwards? jae had a puppy when he was eight, but had to give him away to the neighbours next door when he moved back to south korea. he thinks hard about whether his puppy had ever posed downwards before. it seems, however, that everyone else knows what brian means, including wonpil, for they all plant their feet onto their yoga mats and bend downwards, their arms a distance away from their feet, their limbs straight.

frantically, jae hurries to copy the others, and tries his best to keep his limbs straight, but to no avail. his back hunches over, his legs are bent at the knee. out of the corner of his eye, he catches brian strolling around the classes. “jaebum! what have we talked about your back? eric, that has improved incredibly, you  _ live _ for that pose now. wonpil, don’t tense your shoulders, but that’s about right.”

wait, what the fuck? shit, oh shit. brian’s going to see jae bent over like the hunchback of notre dame, and he’ll be allocated to the beginners class (or, more embarrassingly, the newcomers class), when a pair of feet come into view. 

striped socks.

“jae, wow. that’s very striking,” he chuckles. jae’s face burns brightly. beside him, wonpil tries not to burst out snickering, mouthing an  _ i told you so _ unseen by the instructor. “well, mind if i help you a little?”

“uh, no? i mean, uh.” what’s he supposed to say? “yes, i guess?”

“someone’s hesitant,” brian teases lightly. “you gotta straighten your back,” and all of a sudden there’s a warm palm flat against his back. startled out of his wits, jae goes crashing to the floor, his arms giving leeway for his flat chest to collide to the yoga mat. there’s a gasp from brian and a snigger from wonpil, and eyes from all those around.

ah, shit. ah, just  _ great _ .

as jae winces in pain, he rolls over onto his back, clutching his aching upper arm. brian appears before his eyes, bent over to inspect the damage. his fox eyes are wide with concern, his silver hair falling past them as he parts his lips. “jae? you good? i’m sorry, did i scare you?”

“d-don’t worry about it,” jae protests as he rolls over to a sitting position. brian looks at him weirdly, but jae just shakes his head. “just, uh. surprised.”

“ah,” brian nods his head, and then he’s off. jae feels his heart plummet to the ground, stomped all over as brian glances at everyone else, clapping his hands to get their attention. 

“alright then! i think we can start with our first pose. remember out eight crooked limbs pose from last class, guys?” with everyone nodding their heads, jae swallows an inward groan. something tells him that this is going to be one very, very long yoga class.

**_______________**

by the third class, jae has exhausted himself out. as everyone begins curling up their yoga mats and packing their things, stuffing their bottles into their oversized duffel bags, jae lays on his yoga mat. his muscles haven’t recovered since wednesday, and it’s already saturday, and he knows that the second he wakes up tomorrow he’s going to be moaning and groaning over all his aching bones. 

he thinks this is the stupidest decision in a while. (well, he’s had a fair share of stupid decisions, but what can he do?)

beside him, wonpil snaps a clean towel on his bare arm, causing him to howl in pain. “c’mon, you sweaty asshole. you’re driving me home,” he demands, but his eyes are still shining, mainly because jae fell to the floor in a jumble of long limbs after attempting to follow along the steps to achieving a beautiful ustrasana. it bugs jae that wonpil keeps wiggling his eyebrows at him every time brian comes over to straighten jae’s back or push him backwards. 

that shit hurts, by the way.

just as jae’s rolling up his mat, there’s a clearing of a throat, too distinctive for jae not to recognise. “jae? could you spare me a minute, please?”

jae throws wonpil a  _ what the fuck? _ look, to which his friend simply shrugs at and quickly darts off, and thus he’s out of the room in a flash. jae sighs inwardly as the room clears out and there’s just him and brian at the front of the room. silently, he trudges up to the other. this fairly reminds him of getting punished by the high school teacher (not that he has gotten punished before, though he gathers that a high school punishment would make him way less jittery as he is now. his knees are practically trembling with half-fear, half-excitement.)

from where he’s sat, brian pulls up a foldable chair, gesturing for jae to sit. he awkwardly sits down. brian looks at him, his scalp pouring with perspiration, his skin practically glowing. (angelic, jae supposes.) their sneakers bump against each other.

brian sighs. one hand reaches up to yank off his hair tie, and for a moment jae’s mesmerised - brian’s silver hair tumbles down, hitting his broad shoulders. Jae thinks brian’s really hot with his hair down. then again, brian’s also really hot with his hair up. he’s not sure whether to feel jealous or turned on, to be frank, but then brian clasps his hands together and snaps jae back into reality.

“hey, jae.” brian plasters a grin across his face. “i’ll be straight with you. i don’t want to let you down, but i feel like you’re not ready for intermediate sessions. most of the guys here are beginners student graduates, that kinda thing. i feel like this is, i don’t know. not right, i guess?” 

soundlessly, jae nods his head.

brian continues, “if you want to continue, you can stay. i won’t force you to move down. it’s just a suggestion.” as if to search for an answer, he looks at jae, jae’s eyes hidden behind those spectacles always, even when he’s doing the halasana (or, at the very least, trying to. brian empathises on some level, having to bring those long legs way behind that head of his.) “if not, then, well, i suggest you could get help from wonpil.”

jae tenses his shoulders. “yeah. sure.”

all of a sudden, brian stands. he’s only a mere one or two inches shorter than jae, but his eyes radiate so bright they pierce right through jae’s. his lips pull into a soft smile, and then jae realises it - he feels a palm land on either side of his frail, bony shoulders. and then they’re so close, if jae made the effort (or mustered up the courage) to lean in, he could’ve kissed the other’s cheek. he feels warm breath against the shell of his ear, a low “relax your shoulders, jae.” 

when brian pulls back, his grin is wider, bordering on a smirk at the moment. jae swears he sees the ghost of it, but then brian pats jae’s back; the moment shatters into two. “gotta let go, man. this is yoga, not your workplace, aites? i’ll see you around.” 

before jae can open his mouth, brian makes a grab for his yoga mat. “c’mon, man. i gotta switch off the lights and heater.” snapping out of his daydreams, jae gathers his stuff in a rush, before hurrying out the door behind brian. he tries to keep his eyes away from anything, anyone else other than brian’s butt on display in those light grey yoga pants. (yoga pants!) when he does reach the lobby, wonpil’s stood near the doorway, a smirk spread so wide across his face jae thinks it might just break it apart. (well, good for him.)

“so.” wonpil shoves the door open, and the light wintry breeze sweeps past them. “hot instructor, lack of yoga skills dilemma-”

“-stuff a sock in it, asshole,” jae grumbles, before storming off to his car. even as he yanks the car door open, he can hear wonpil’s cackle all the way from here.

**_______________**

when wednesday does, eventually, roll around (and so, too, does his supposed fourth class), wonpil peels the car door open to gasp at the sight of jae. jae, bundled up in his coat over crinkled work shirt and black slacks. no sign of the blue yoga mat lies in the backseat, even when wonpil cranes his neck. “dude, what the fuck? were you  _ that _ demotivated by him last class?”

jae rolls his eyes at the other’s overdramatic gesticulations. “get in the car, you little shit. do you wanna freeze out there in the snow?” when wonpil has slid into the car seat, his yoga mat playing solo in the back, he clicks his seatbelt and turns to jae, his eyes begging for an answer.

knowing him all too well, jae bites down on his lip. pulls out of wonpil’s driveway. “i’ve decided that this is all too much shit for me. i think i pulled a muscle in my calf last class.” he screws his face up. “yoga just isn’t my thing, man. i’ve tried so much. i even trying followed a beginners youtube tutorial!”

“about time you realised that, asshat,” wonpil counters. when jae glares at him, wonpil raises his hands in mock surrender. “seriously! you can’t even bend over to touch your toes.”

“only because your legs are, like, half the length of mine,” jae huffs. it’s quiet, save for the ABBA song playing on the radio. before either of them fully realise it, jae’s pulled up in front of the building. he switches the engine off, before nodding towards wonpil. “your stop.”

but before wonpil leaves, he knits his eyebrows at jae. “which class is it today?”

jae frowns. “um. my fourth one?”

the both of them stare at each other for a long second or two, until it dawns upon jae.

“ _ oh _ .”

**_______________**

they’re half an hour early before the session starts, anyways, so wonpil walks into the room first, promptly dumping his yoga mat and darting out of the room with a “hey, brian. i’m heading to the washroom first!” when he sees jae wringing his hands together outside the door, he pats jae’s shoulder affectionately, reminding him to lock the door behind him.

and jae does. with his nerves bundling up in his gut, jae twists the doorknob open to reveal brian on the floor, on his yoga mat, his legs out in front of him as he bends over. the sight of brian, his messy man bun on the top of his head, his sleeveless tee showing off his rippling triceps as he touches his toes, sends jae into a frenzy. he tries to calm himself down as he clicks the door shut, prompting brian to glance up.

“hey, jae,” brian greets warmly, and is startled by jae’s outfit. “oh… busy day?”   


“you could say that,” jae replies meekly. he clasps his hands together behind his back, his index and middle fingers locked together in a silent prayer. “actually, no… i have something to say.”

noticing his grave tone, brian turns serious. he leaps to his feet with ease, his eyes glinting with curiosity, and jae’s reminded of the first time he met the other, eyes shining. “you sound serious. was it what i said after last class? what’s up, jae?” he asks tentatively.

jae bites down on his tongue momentarily, before parting his lips, dry from the lack of humidity in the air. “well.. the thing is. i kinda lied.”

the creases on the other’s forehead show, but before brian can say anything, jae adds, “i’m actually not a regular at yoga. i’m an amateur. a complete, utter amateur. like, i have never done a single fucking second of yoga before joining this session.” he breathes shakily. he really wants to tear his eyes away from brian’s, but the guy’s stare is so mesmerising jae can’t look away. damn brian and his effect on him. “i’m sorry for, uh. slowing the class down. i don’t think i’m joining anymore, though.”

he says the last sentence a little sheepishly, a little quieter. the dreaded moment between them drags on as brian processes everything. “oh. well, then. kinda explains why you didn’t really, well... you get me,” he chuckles a little, which of course makes jae laugh, too, because brian just has that effect on everyone. 

it alarms jae, however, when brian takes a few steps forward, until there’s a mere space between them. jae’s reminded of last saturday, the hands on his shoulders, the voice next to his ear. “but if you really wanted those coupons, why didn’t you just join the newcomers class?”

ah, fuck. jae didn’t think of a make-up lie for that. goddammit.

“well, uh. you see here…” his voice trails off and is replaced by a squeak as brian walks forward. and jae’s way too nervous, so he takes several steps back. to any onlooker, it seems to be as if they’re dancing to a soundless melody, one step forward, one step back. two steps forward, two steps back. three steps forward- jae has to resist the urge to scream when his back hits the wall.

ah, the top ten rom-com scenes. but of course.

breathing heavily, jae tries to urge away the oncomings of a complete brain shut-down as brian nears him, so close he can smell the hint of cologne on the other. their eyes are still locked, even when brian plants a hand on the wall torturously close to jae’s left ear. yet, the former’s smile is pleasant, warm, welcoming. “mm. what should i be seeing?” he asks. 

the other’s left eye twitches a little. “y-you should be seeing…” 

brian’s grin widens. his other hand reaches out to brush jae’s cheek, fingertips grazing softly against his skin. “your skin’s pretty smooth,” he comment lightly, as if he doesn’t have jae up against the wall right now. “i’m always coming up with some bad outbreaks here and there. what foam cleanser do you use, usually?” he asks nonchalantly.

“uh… laneige, i guess?”

“ah,” brian nods his head, his eyes still on jae’s. where the fuck is this conversation even going? “so. about that half-answer of yours.” the hand on his cheek, the thumb smoothing the skin there, and jae feels drunk, feels like he’s chugged down three beers in one go. 

his head dizzy, his composure ruined. “i… you’re kinda hot.”

“hm.” brian hums, but the hints of warmth begin showing across his skin, particularly in the tips of his ears. jae thinks it’d be really adorable, but then remembers he’s caged against the wall at the moment, and returns to feeling hot all over. “only  _ kinda _ ?”

this earns an eye roll from the other, but jae gives in. he’s definitely losing this, whatever  _ this _ is. yet his lips betray him, a small smile ghosting over them. “fine. you’re. really hot. and i was interested in some sense? not, well, interested in the  _ class _ , but- fuck, this is embarrassing,” he mutters irately, lowering his head. brian laughs, a forefinger reaching out to push the other’s chin up gently so their eyes meet again.

“sorry,” brian laughs, and closes the gap. jae almost screeches out of shock, but when brian’s lips press against him, the buzzing in his head is amplified, all the energy to scream dissipating. he reaches out slowly to cup the nape of the other’s neck, silver hair tickling his knuckles as he kisses back with as much fervor. brian whispers something against his lips, something jae doesn’t catch. but that’s okay; this is way better than okay. this is the best.

when brian’s guard is lowered, and both hands are wrapped around jae’s lithe shoulders, an idea pings into his head. quickly, he throws brian against the wall (not too rough, of course - he doesn’t want to fracture that pretty head of his), and brian squeals against their lips. it’s the cutest fucking thing ever, and jae kisses brian harder. the hands on his shoulders tighten their grip on him.

jae pulls back a little, watches brian’s starry eyes and swollen lips. “relax your arms, bri,” jae sighs breathily, watches brian’s expression darken before closing the space again. they would’ve continued kissing if there wasn’t a knock on the door. 

they both freeze. from this position in the room, the person at the door can’t possibly see them through the little window, but just to make sure, they practically tear away from each other. jae fixes his (now, very crumpled) work shirt; brian adjusts his man bun. jae doesn’t try to resist the want to poke at the bun, which earns him a pout from the other. It’s adorable.

brian tears the door open, his eyes widening. “heyyy dowoon!” he laughs humorlessly. “great to see you, what’s up?” he shoves the door wider to reveal a guy with his dark hair swept off of his forehead, headband lopsided, awkward smile. his hands grip on a plate of cookies.

“hey, brian-hyung, hey- oh.” dowoon frowns a little, purses his lips. “sorry. i don’t know you.”

“oh, this is jae, one of my, uh.” brian searches for the right word to say, but jae butts in.

“ex-students,” jae nods fervently. 

dowoon nods his head slowly as if drinking it in. “ahh, okay. anyways, here, hyung. some cookies. i baked some extra again, and now i’m distributing them out to everyone.” he eyes the both of them warily, exchanging glances between the both of them. it’s unsurprisingly suspicious. “anyways, i should get going. i’ve got class in a bit. well. enjoy.” before he walks off, jae catches him winking at him, before walking off. something tells him his request of enjoyment doesn’t necessarily lie in the cookies.

brian chuckles as he walks over to the desk and sets the plate down. he rummages through the top drawer momentarily, and before jae can ask, the instructor produces a small bundle of coupons. “well. you signed up for a month’s worth of classes. here you go.”

when jae tries to take them with a soft “thanks”, the other’s grip on the coupons doesn’t loosen. “y’know, i was thinking if i could see you again. well, not as my  _ yoga student _ , of course.”

the next time jae looks up, brian’s eyes are hopeful, yearning. jae grins. “is this the part where i ask you out on a cheap date for some cheap lobster next door?” he thinks he’s said the right thing, because brian giggles like a schoolboy and kisses, possibly, all the life out of jae.

**_______________**

so  _ perhaps _ jae is a semi-broke twenty-four-year-old with a delicate heart, and perhaps he really, really likes this hot guy he asks out for a lobster date on a saturday evening, and perhaps he really, really likes kissing said hot guy, sweaty hair and all. perhaps said hot guy brings jae home, and perhaps they kiss against the walls of the little elevator, and perhaps the second they kick the front door shut behind him jae rips the buttons off of his crumpled work shirt. 

perhaps jae really, really likes said hot guy’s lithe arms, wrapping his long fingers around the other’s biceps as the back of his knees hit the bed. and perhaps that’s the first time jae hears said hot guy whispering dirty permutations of his name down his ear all night as jae settles himself on said hot guy’s lap.

perhaps jae is semi-broke, but he’s wrapped in the arms of a fit hot guy, and perhaps that’s not too bad.

_ _______________ _

when jae wakes up the following morning, it takes him to process that one, he’s alone on the bed, and two, this is certainly not his room. three, he certainly does not have a completely white canvas hanging on the wall facing the bed, save for the letters scrawled in light blue paint over them. they spell  _ yoga is a dance between control and surrender. _ jae tries not to laugh at the dirtier sexual insinuation of the words as he slides off of the bed.

the fever of last night had the both of them kissing and rutting up against each other on the walls, so jae hadn’t had a good view of the room. with the sunshine basking through the drawn curtains, jae can make out the living room, small but well-filled to the brim with furniture. there’s a space in the centre, and as jae passes the doorway, he catches sight of a sliver of silver.

jae halts in his steps, watching brian doing… some form of the downward dog. but he slowly lifts his leg up high every few seconds. jae tries not to be such a pervert, but he can’t help himself as he leans against the door frame. “cute butt,” he says aloud.

mildly surprised, brian stops his movements, but doesn’t stray from the position of the downward dog. he cranes his neck to look at jae, his uncombed hair falling past his eyes. “thanks, babe,” he blows a kiss before returning to his morning exercise. 

jae lingers by the door a bit more, watching the other (okay,  _ fine _ , he’s watching the other’s perky arse) continue with his leg lifts, until a voice speaks up. “y’know, i appreciate the love, but i feel kinda intruded at the moment,” he calls out.

laughing, jae shuffles over to sit down onto the carpeted floor next to brian, watching the other’s serious face. when he counts fifty, brian eases back into a standing position, grinning down at jae. “morning.”

“morning,” jae grins back. 

“i can make us some breakfast,” brian suggests.

jae shakes his head, getting to his feet again. “no,  _ i’ll _ make breakfast. please.” he tries not to inwardly panic, but the only thing he can cook is probably ramen. and fried mushrooms. and probably fried eggs. maybe brian will like them all? or is brian as good a cook as he is at everything else? suddenly jae’s very, very insecure, but he can’t pull back because brian pecks his cheeks and answers with an “okay, if you insist!” and proceeds to some other yoga exercise jae hopes he will never do again.

it’s not too bad. he whips up some fried eggs in ramen (brian has, like, a whole stash in his cupboard. he counted seven cup noodles up in there.) and calls for brian to come into the kitchen. within a few minutes, they’re sitting face-to-face, slurping up noodles and giggling every time they make unexpected eye contact.

when they’re done, jae sighs. “i’ll wash up-”

“-nah, just leave them in the sink,” brian smiles softly, and jae’s heart melts a little more. “because you cooked breakfast, i’ve got a reward for you,” he sing-songs.

as if on reflex, jae’s heart begins pounding hard against his chest. “i wonder what it is,” he teases, scrambling to his feet. he’s about to lean in to kiss brian when the other shoves him away lightly. shocked, jae clutches his chest in faked sadness. “brian! how could you?”

“c’mon, you big baby,” brian giggles, taking his hand and dragging him into the living room. he leans in to kiss jae once, long and drawn out, before pulling back. “so here’s your reward!”

“what? a  _ kiss _ is my reward?” jae quizzes skeptically. 

brian shakes his head. “no.  _ this _ .” jae almost hears his heart drop to the ground and shattering into a million pieces as his gaze follows the direction the other’s forefinger is pointing at. the horrific lime green yoga mat, unfurled across the carpeted floor, spells complete and utter dread before jae’s eyes. “c’mon! sit down, and i’ll teach you how to split!”

“s-split?” jae sputters. fuck. if only brian wasn’t really fit and really hot, then perhaps jae might have the dignity to reject this ‘reward’. he gives in, sighing deeply as he rolls onto the yoga mat, much to brian’s content and his own dismay.

it’s gonna be a long day, and jae will be damned if he doesn’t get some cheap lobster after all this.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

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